


Chasing Daylight

by LiterallyAViking



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aliens, I really love space guys, Literal Emperor of Space Sugawara Koushi, M/M, Martian Kyoutani Kentarou, Mechanic Iwaizumi Hajime, Presumed to be Dead Kozume Kenma, Space Pilot Oikawa Tooru, Spaceships, all that good stuff, idfk how to tag, space, space travel, theres some sciency stuff but schematics or whatever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-23 21:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6130249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiterallyAViking/pseuds/LiterallyAViking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Space is so much bigger than you think it is, Iwai--Hajime." He muttered, head facing the sky but his eyes closed.</p><p>Iwaizumi turned away from him, facing upwards towards the stars. </p><p>"And much, much more dangerous than I wish it was."</p><p>--</p><p>In which aliens are real and the space-time seems to be collapsing on itself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mission

**Author's Note:**

> Shit, man, it's time for space.

Captain Oikawa Tooru of the Fourth Eluvium Galaxy—just North of the Star of the Echelons, in case you were wondering—was extremely annoyed to put it lightly, especially considering the fact that the current Hegemon of the Prefecture of the Northern Echelons had just demanded that Captain Oikawa Tooru—one of the most successful fleet captain in all five of the Eluvium Galaxies, in case you were wondering—be taken off of one of the most important missions ever assigned to the Royal Fleet of the Five Sworn Galaxies since the storming of the previous Hegemony controlling the Prefecture of the Western Echelons some two hundred years ago. 

Instead, the Hegemon of the Prefecture of the Northern Echelons had bitterly assigned Captain Oikawa Tooru—not his most trusted fleet, oh no, but simply Captain Oikawa Tooru—to a measly mission of the continuous prodding of the Galaxy of the Galactic Cannibal, named for its previous consumption of the Galaxy of the Hundred Million Stars, the latter now being nothing more than a fleeting memory for the people of the Four Prefectures of the Echelons, much less for those in the Northern Prefecture and even less for Captain Oikawa Tooru. He could honestly care less about the happenings in the Lower Galaxies as they were called, much less one of a mere hundred million stars being swallowed by some sort of omni-cannibal.

However, it seemed that, by defeating the sore loser that was the Hegemon of the Prefecture of the Northern Echelons in a game of Echelon, Captain Oikawa Tooru was doomed to be given a job equivalent to that of a low ranked Fleet Ship Pilot who got all of his training from the ten day course given to first time fliers if a need for arms was called upon, not the man who had graduated top of his class in Training, Scala, Command, and Saints schools—the latter of which being so top secret that even thinking of the relative location of it was enough of a justification for the Royal Guards of the Prefectures to come and kill him.

Captain Oikawa Tooru sneered down at the set of orders clutched in his hands, the thick material made from the above ground husk mines on the three moons of the ever raining planet of Lijo was crumpled and creased, having been balled up in frustration before slowly smoothed out to be read over again. And then the cycle repeated itself. Again and again until Captain Oikawa Tooru was just about ready to scream because, no matter how many times he crumpled up the paper and no matter how many times it was preened out, it still had the same stupid mission on it. 

The prodding of the Galaxy of the Galactic Cannibal of all things, Oikawa could feel a scoff of disgust rising in his throat as he tried once again to rip the paper up, knowing perfectly well that the husks it had been woven from were nearly indestructible. Doing such a thing was useless, really, and only served to tire Oikawa out in the end. Oh, I'm sorry, Captain Oikawa Tooru of the Fourth Eluvium Galaxy. Still, that didn't stop him from trying.

Taking one last look at the orders—noting the bright red 'PRECISE LOCATION WILL BE GIVEN ON SHIP – PLEASE USE SHIP 2088P3' glaring up at him with an extra dash of distaste—Captain Oikawa Tooru of the Fourth Eluvium Galaxy finally crumpled up the paper for the last time, tossing it through the bubble-like walls of the platform leading to the ship dock. He watched the small automatic trash ship zoom towards the paper and quickly vacuum it up to later be used in some project or another—likely the reconstruction of the second moon of Ophelia. Quite a popular tourist destination, in case you were wondering. 

With the annoying piece of paper finally gone, Oikawa felt as if he could finally breathe freely, a completely absurd feeling seeing as it was nothing more than a simple piece of paper that served to make him want to rip the head off of the next Hegemon he ran across—even if it was the ever so benevolent Hegemon of the Prefecture of the Southern Echelons. Oh yes, he was truly—and in his mind rightfully—pissed off. 

Quickening his pace, Captain Oikawa Tooru began to make his way towards the ship dock, already picturing the faces of his small but trusted crew when he told them that, instead of going off on what could have been one of the biggest missions in their lives, they were instead going to be sent to probe one of the Lower Galaxies, and the one with the most appalling name of them all, at that. That thought alone was enough to make Oikawa want to turn around and catch the next flight out of the galaxy. Maybe he could go to Erato—the capital galaxy of the Southern Echelons. If he was correct, the Hegemon of the Prefecture had been vacationing there for the last month. With his status of Saints School, he was sure the Hegemon would welcome him with open arms.

Even though his mind was running through his best plan of escape, his feet seemed to be on autopilot, following the path to the docks that he knew all too well. As soon as he had decided on the perfect escape plan—calling up a Command School dropout turned illegal parts dealer and asking him for a quick ride into the Foy Galaxy some two quadrants apart from his current one—it turned out that he was already at the docks, vendors and pilots bustling around, prepping for takeoff and selling their (likely illegal) goods.

Oikawa was prepared to simply turn around from the docks and rush away towards the public departure transit, cursing his feet the whole way, but was cut short by an arm flung around his shoulders and a face jammed up against his.

"Captain," said a voice to go with the arm, one that Captain Oikawa Tooru knew all too well, "The H254M we flew in on is locked. What's up with that? Issei and I need to run through it for maintenance check before we change out in the Fifth Eluvium."

Oikawa flinched ever so slightly at the mere mention of his most beloved H254M being locked up against its will. Well, his will really, but still. He craned his neck around to face Hanamaki Takahiro, one of the two engineers in Oikawa's small crew that, when on a ship any bigger than the H254M, would accompany him in the front of the ship rather than rushing around the back. 

"'Makki," Oikawa began, throwing a large smile across his face as he did, "The oh-so powerful Hegemon has instructed our crew to use a different ship, 2088P3, in fact."

Hanamaki's eyebrows rose up to his hairline, nearly disappearing in the soft pink of his hair as he did. "2088P3? Isn't that just a dingy? Are we heading to a different base than the rest of the Greater Fleet?" A spark lit up in Hanamaki's eyes, obviously pleased by the fact that they would be going to a location that no one else in the Greater Fleet was going. That he knew of, of course. 

"You could say that," Oikawa glanced off almost guiltily to the side. Damn him and his exceptional talents. He'd have to ask Yahaba to de-train him in the art of Echelons, even though that comment would likely end with him laying on the ground, bruised and battered. He could worry about his impeccable talents later, however. "Just gather the crew and get them to 2088P3, I'll explain there."

Hanamaki gave a curt nod, not seeming to have caught onto Oikawa's bitter mood as he quickly bounded off to gather the others. He probably thought that they'd be sent on some secret mission even more important than that of the Greater Fleet.  Oikawa sighed as he began the walk towards where 2088P3 would be located, so far away from his beloved H254M that it hurt. He hoped that the Hegemon wouldn't be bitter enough to take his ship under government custody. Oh, he would simply die if that were to happen. 

As he weaved through the rows of vendors—one of which was offering claim of intelligent life in the ex-Galaxy of the Hundred Million Stars while another was holding up small neuro-transmitters he had likely smuggled from Foy—Oikawa gnawed anxiously at his lip, his mind turned away from the disappointment of his crew to instead face the humiliation he would face among others in the Royal Fleet of the Five Sworn Galaxies that were at his position of leadership. God, any fleet ever put under his command again would think he was a joke.

Just like walking to the dock, he reached 2088P3 all too quickly for his liking, his crew already gathered in front of where it was tied up. Hanamaki was the only one who looked pleased, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet while the rest of the crew simply stared at the ship in contempt, the thoughts of the shiny H254M likely still fresh in their minds. It seemed that Hanamaki was the only one under the assumption of being sent on some secret mission. Well, at least he hadn't decided to share the—false—news.

"Go on," Hanamaki urged, trying to disguise his excited smile with a smug smirk instead, the only person in the crew that seemed to be convinced was Yahaba, and that was only because he focus was trained purely on Oikawa, not giving Hanamaki even a second glance.

"Alright," Oikawa said, his voice trembling slightly—something that didn't go unnoticed by anyone, not even the ecstatic Hanamaki—as he quickly cleared his throat, hoping to get rid of the quaver before he began to speak again, "So, as you can tell, the First Hegemon has placed this ship under our—well, my command."

"The Hegemon himself?" Watari wondered out loud, reminding Oikawa that the boy had only been through Training and Scala school before Oikawa had recruited him, meaning that he never had the…honor that the Command School attendees had of the frequent speeches the Hegemon gave them. 

"Yes," Oikawa confirmed, trying to convince himself that he answered for the sake of Watari and not for the sake of buying time. "Well, the Hegemon has also instructed us a new mission to go along with the new ship-" First Engineer and Mechanic Hanamaki Takahiro, please stop jumping around, you are only stressing Captain Oikawa Tooru out more. "-and that mission happens to have nothing to do with that of the Greater Fleet's. Instead it is-" Second Engineer and Informant Matsukawa Issei, please stop sending First Engineer Hanamaki Takahiro your equivalent of an excited glance, you are only stressing Captain Oikawa Tooru out more, "-a probing mission. Of the Galaxy of the Galactic Cannibal."

All of the excitement that Hanamaki had previously contained seemed to simply leak out of him, as well as with the other three of his small crew. They had been expecting some sort of infiltration mission or clearing mission, maybe even a delivery, but most certainly not a probing. Most certainly not a mission reserved for pilots so low ranked it was almost laughable.

"Are you serious?" Second Engineer and Informant Matsukawa Issei asked incredulously, his usual deadpan expression seeming to have been multiplied as he stared at Oikawa, the question of what the hell he had done to piss of the Hegemon of the Prefecture of the Northern Echelons written across his face.

"A probing?" Translator Yahaba Shigeru cut in before Oikawa could answer Matsukawa's unsaid question. "The last time I was sent on one of those was in Erato, pre-Training, even." Yahaba's face was twisted into an expression of confusion, as if not sure why they were doing this sort of work. Everyone was, really, Oikawa included. It seemed that the Hegemon cared more for his own pride than the sake of his Prefecture. 

"I may or may not have pissed off the Hegemon," A round of groans followed this statement, Hanamaki even going as far as to throw his head back and simply yell, drawing the attraction of the people bustling about them on the dock. Oikawa would be lying if he said that was't his exact emotion at the moment.

"How did you manage that?" Tech Specialist Watari Shinji asked, all of his previous amazement on the topic of the Hegemon gone.

"Beat him at a game of Echelons," Oikawa shrugged, watching out of the corner of his eyes as the crew's expression turned from grim to annoyed, hopefully at the Hegemon and not at him. If they were pissed at him for a game then they had a lot coming for them.

"Are you serious?" Hanamaki scoffed, crossing his arms as if in disbelief. "I knew the Hegemon was a lot of things, and I mean a lot, but I didn't know he was one for petty revenge. We should probably hold a reelection soon."

"The reelection is next year," Matuskawa offered, stretching his arms above his head as he did. "Now, can we open up the ship? It still needs a maintenance check."

Oikawa was grateful for the Second Engineer and Informant that was Matsukawa Issei as he quickly drove the attention from Oikawa and the Hegemon to instead focus on the ship and the mission at hand, no matter how bitter those involved might be over it. 

"No need for maintenance," Yahaba spoke up, a piece of an almost rubbery looking paper clutched in his hands as he took a step away from the ship to instead present it to the Captain. "I found it attached to the ship. It's signed the first engineer and mechanic of Base-Z73Q. Seems legit."

Oikawa snatched the paper from Yahaba's hands—noting with slight contempt the texture of the 'paper,' a sign that it was, in fact, legit—and quickly read it over, muttering slightly as he did so. With a frown he pulled the paper away from his face, passing it to Hanamaki who just as quickly skimmed through it, Matsukawa leaning over his shoulder and reading through it more carefully than the first engineer. The two of them gradually finished and turned to face the ship with eyes squinted in suspicion, as if not totally believing the words in front of them. 

"Well then," Hanamaki finally broke the silence that had settled over the others as they watched the two carefully examine the exterior of the ship. He clapped a hand on Oikawa's back before marching up to the door of the ship, the only indication of its presence being a small blue flower with the name of the ship written below it in Galactic Common. The Sun Shy, Oikawa noted before turning his attention back to Hanamaki. "I guess it's fine." Despite his words it was obvious he was uncertain, and so was everyone else. They knew from experience that the first engineers and mechanics of Base-Z73Q weren't exactly the most trustworthy people. There was even a rumor going around that they were responsible for the destruction of the second moon of Ophelia.

"Are you two going to give it a quick rundown?" Oikawa asked Hanamaki as he walked up to where the other man was standing, quickly reaching out and palming the center of the small flower, watching as it read his palm, sensed his heartbeat, and slowly lit up, a soft blue glow sluggishly illuminating the outline of a door. It was different from the outline of the new ships, this one being more of an oval than the circles that were much more popular in newer models. "I'm sure I speak for us all when I say you two are about the only engineers that I trust."

Matsukawa snorted at this, quickly filing into the ship before either the First Engineer or the Captain could step foot into the small front quarters, jumping a bit as if to see if the ground was faulty or not. He nodded in affirmation before turning back to the group gathered around the door, Watari and Yahaba looking flabbergasted at the nerve of the man, stepping onto a ship before the Captain. 

"That's bad luck right there," Watari mumbled to himself, glancing at Oikawa as if to gouge his reaction. There was none, it was as if Oikawa was used to this, which Watari was certain he wasn't, but then again, he hadn't known Oikawa's crew during Command and Saints school, so who was he to determine just how regular this was for his Captain.

"Watari," Matsukawa's voice said from in the ship, him still being the only person in the ship, Hanamaki running his hands over the side of the ship as if checking for external faults while Oikawa merely watched him do so, "Come check the control mechanics. This model is older than the H254M, so check the wiring and the basic controls. Takahiro will do the rest."

Watari nodded and quickly rushed into the ship, taking note of the slight creak that resounded below his feet. Not eerie at all. "Bad luck, bad luck." he muttered once again.

Soon enough the small team of three had finished their rundown of the ship, the only thing that proved to unnerve them being the squeaky floor and the older controls, old enough that they seemed to confuse Watari and Yahaba. However, it was Oikawa who would be flying the 2088P3 and he remembered using these sort of controls back in Scala and part way through Command Schools, Saints being the only one that had them focused primarily on newer controls as well as controls that were likely to be used in the future.

Oikawa sighed as he stood at the front of the Control Dock, staring out at the docks in front of him. If he squinted he was able to imagine seeing his H254M, and if he closed his eyes entirely then he was able to imagine that this was, in fact not a 2088P3, and instead a ship that was actually reliable and at least up to date—sans the two years it was actually behind.

He quickly logged into the mission base of the ship, cringing slightly at the old design of it all. 

"Where to, Captain?" Hanamaki asked, throwing himself into the captain's seat located in front of the main control panel. He tapped expectantly at the part of the panel that was—luckily—control free. If not then the ship would have likely been launched into the branch of the dock they were currently in.

Oikawa turned around to face his crew, eyes passing over each of them as he took a moment to get slightly sentimental. Even though they wouldn't be going on something akin to the mission of a lifetime, it was still something. Pre-Training work, but still something. 

Who was he kidding? It was humiliating not be given a place in the Greater Fleet's mission, even with his high standings in it.  "Galaxy of the Galactic Cannibal," Oikawa finally said, turning back around to the mission base behind him before leaning over Hanamaki and quickly inputting their to-be location. "Spur 2b, Fourth Northern from the Center at 50,000 lightyears. Sixty-and-nineteen degrees. Currently at one-eighty degrees and 25,000 lightyears."

"You know," Yahaba spoke up as he settled down into his seat, watching as Oikawa kicked Hanamaki out of his seat and began to work his way out of the dock, "I have next to no idea what you just said." Watari laughed at this, making a sound of agreement as he did. 

"It's a little something called 'Oikawa Tooru Language.'" Hanamaki said, his hands flourishing out with the words as he stalked back to his seat in between Watari and Matsukawa. "You should learn it, Yahaba. You're our translator, after all."


	2. Engineer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Iwaizumi Hajime knows nothing of Martian engineering.

Iwaizumi Hajime of Earth—not that there was anything special about the planet, it was purely for title, in case you were wondering—was extremely annoyed, to put it lightly, especially considering the fact that one of Kyoutani Kentarou's—of Mars, in case you were wondering—many, many dogs had just decided that it needed attention right as Iwaizumi had began repairs on one of the most important components of the Martian H2150 ship—one that had been creatively named The Martian.

It wasn't that Iwaizumi Hajime of Earth—not that the title mattered at all, considering the planet he was still grounded on—didn't enjoy Kyoutani Kentarou's many, many dogs, and it wasn't as if he didn't understand where the other man's fascination with them came from—Mars was severely lacking of, well, any animals really—but it definitely hit quite a few nerves when, in the middle of a job that would set him up with enough money to live comfortably for about ten years, a dog decided to come lumbering around and nosing at his elbow, trying to get the man to throw his arm over it's head.

If it were up to Iwaizumi Hajime, the project would most definitely not be taking place in Kyoutani's house, but when he considered the fact that his workshop was already full and he didn't exactly want the infamously dark Martian grease to stain the freshly waxed floors of his home, he supposed that Kyoutani's oddly grim-and-slightly-grimy house was good enough. Even with the dogs. He'd have to go clear out his workshop as soon as he finished up this project. Sooner, even, with the way the dog was beginning to whine from the lack of love Iwaizumi was giving him. Or perhaps not giving him.

With a sigh, Iwaizumi finally relented to the dog's wishes, wiping his greasy hands on a dishrag that was once a bright orange color now turned a grisly black before turning to give his attention to the dog, brushing his hands through it's fur. Hopefully this wouldn't take too long, the already severely damaged reactor was glaring up at him, a red light blinking every minute or so as to alert someone of its damage. Helpful, really.

"Kyoutani," Iwaizumi shouted out, the only confirmation that the other boy had heard him being a soft grunt from across the room and behind the ship. If he were to be honest, Iwaizumi wasn't too sure as to why Kyoutani decided to hang around while the older of the two was working on a ship, the only insight the younger provided usually either being a grunt of approval or disapproval as he focused on some comic book rather than whatever school assignment he was given. "Call your dog over, I can't focus with it here."

"My dog has a name, Iwaizumi," The boy said in a bored tone, as if contemplating whether or not to comply to Iwaizumi's request. This slight pause was enough to make the mechanic grind his teeth in annoyance, knowing that anything he said could be used against him and his rights to the current ship-building location. He seriously doubted Kyoutani would do something like that, but you could never know with him. After another moment of silence from the both of them, Iwaizumi could hear a soft sigh followed by a low whistle that quickly set the dog beneath his hand into a frenzy, the animal rushing away from Iwazumi to bound over to Kyoutani's side.

"Thank you," Iwaizumi muttered, setting the issue behind him as he turned back to the ship and, more importantly, the reactor which was now flashing an orange light in between each dash of red. While he wasn't exactly an expert on Martian technology—relatively similar to Terran, but with a dash of flare that could only be described as, well, Martian—he knew enough of the other's style to know that this probably wasn't a good sign. Then again, the reactor that this Martian ship had installed was years old as it is, likely made during the time when the planet was trying especially hard to differentiate itself from Earth and all things Earthly. 

A time of pride, Iwaizumi thought. A time that certainly would not help to make his work any easier.

He let out a long sigh, pushing himself away from the annoyingly unique reactor and the ship in general as he leant back in his chair, throwing an arm over his eyes as he threw his head back to face the ceiling. Damned if he wouldn't appreciate an instruction manual right now. Even though the technology could still be considered relatively 'new'—at least on Mars—it was still from years before even he was born, likely only invented during the time of his parents' childhood. Years ago.

Iwaizumi shot the blinking reactor a dirty glare—luckily still in it's stages of red and orange, red and orange, back and forth, again and again—before deciding that all of the nasty looks at the work wasn't likely to help one bit. Sending the machine yet another look of contempt—perhaps it would work, he wasn't an expert in this field of technology after all—the man slowly pulled himself up to his feet, stretching out his back and arms as he did. He definitely felt as if he deserved it, something of an award for doing all of the work that he did before finding that it was all fruitless due to one, tiny piece.

The mechanic reached for his oily rag, wiping his hands over it distractedly, eyes fixated on the bothersome reactor despite his silent promise to himself to simply ignore it once he had stood. Oops. The promise was no where in his head at the moment, however, instead it spent a moment regretting the fact that he hadn't paid as close of attention to Martian Technology as he should have before turning to the idea of a replacement reactor. A Terran one. One that ran faster and worked harder, one that could easily send the ship's pilot from Earth to Mars and back some five hundred times with no strain, one that cost only 250 credits at his local mechanic's shop. Or, better yet, one that only cost zero credits and zero units that could be found right here in the dump that was Kyoutani Kentarou's house.

"Kyoutani?" Iwaizumi called out, peeking over the tail of the ship—Martian ships were known for being short, and ones from the time period this one was from were likely shorter than what was today required by the regulations of the SS Federation of Ships as well as the Federation of Safety—to lock eyes with the younger boy, who already seemed to be alert, looking away from his comic book to glance at Iwaizumi. "You happen to got any Eastern Orion 1000 Reactors laying around this dump?"

Kyoutani narrowed his eyes, setting down his comic book on the desk in front of him and turning in his spinny-chair to face Iwaizumi, "My house is not a dump," he defended, but Iwaizumi was able to read him well enough to know that he knew the place was, in fact, a dump, "But I don't see why you need an Orion 1000 for an H2150. A Martian ship, may I remind you."

With a roll of his eyes and a snort, Iwaizumi propped his arm against the top of the tail of the ship, the dirty rag held in his left hand falling against the smoothly polished surface of the ship—luckily not Iwaizumi's job to clean. "The H2150 is from, like, seventy years ago. Martian Age of Independence. This reactor is purely Martian, and purely past my knowledge of reactors." Kyoutani grumbled, pulling himself from the seat with a sigh, as if he was trying to seem reluctant about getting up. Still, the older man could see a spark in the younger's eyes, as if he was excited to – well, Iwaizumi wasn't quite sure what the younger thought he was doing, but he had learnt from experience that, at times, it was best to just let Kyoutani to do what he needed to.

He looped around the ship, a hand dragging along the surface almost in longing, as if he missed it, before coming to stand by Iwaizumi, peering down at the reactor still held securely in the First Circuit Board, as most of the mechanics on Earth often called it. Kyoutani took a step forward, crouching down to come eye level with the reactor the size of his first finger. 

Nimbly, he pried if from the board, the soft whoop of the ship's reactor alarm going off inside of the ship replacing the relatively quiet atmosphere that had since settled over the two of them. With skilled fingers, the Martian spun the reactor around before letting out a snort of laughter as he showed the reactor to the Terran, a small red sign reading something in Martian Common—a language that Iwaizumi never bothered to learn.

"Didn't you call this the most damaged part of the ship?" Kyoutani asked, knowing the answer perfectly well as he leaned back down to the First Circuit Board and shoved the reactor back into its place, the sirens silencing and the lights ceasing their blinking. "It literally just needed to be turned around. I cannot believe you bother to call yourself a mechanic."

"I'll never understand this Martian shit and you know it," Iwaizumi mumbled, scowling at the boy as he pulled himself away from where he hovered behind Kyoutani. If he wasn't so insistent on going into some kind of work involving animals—one which he would never get to if he kept putting off his studies—Iwaizumi was certain the Martian would make a great mechanic.

Kyoutani sent him a coy smile before making his way back to his desk, accompanying the movement with the slight wave of his hand as if granting Iwaizumi permission to follow. The was certainly enough to get the older to sneer at the younger's back as he followed along despite himself. Honestly, it was because he wanted to, no outside forces whatsoever.

As the two approached the desk, Iwaizumi tiredly threw himself into the old, ratty, likely covered in dog piss couch that Kyoutani had found on the side of the street one day when he first arrived on Earth. 

"I'm going to sleep," Iwaizumi hummed a moment after he heard Kyoutani plop himself down in his seat—completely ignoring the tell-tale sound of the chair spinning around once, twice, three times—throwing his arms over his face as if to block out the light that was barely even there, considering how dimly lit the room was. "Tell your dogs not to wake me up."

"They're dogs, Iwaizumi," Kyoutani stated matter-of-factually as he began to scratch his pencil across one of the many worksheets he had put off until the last minute, "They won't listen to me."

"Trust me," The older snored out almost a minute later, using the time to simply ingest the words. "They will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What if I told you that I know absolutely nothing about engineering? You may be shocked to hear this, but it's true.
> 
> Also, this is so short fml


	3. Destination

Captain Oikawa Tooru of the Fourth Eluvium Galaxy—just North of the Star of the Echelons, in case you were wondering or perhaps had forgotten—was just about ready to turn this dingy of a ship around and head straight back to the Prefecture of the Northern Echelons, if not to assassinate the First Hegemon than to at least get one First Engineer and Mechanic Hanamaki Takahiro off of his ship and sent off to the ever raining planet of Lijo to mine husks for paper for the rest of his natural born life.

It wasn't that Oikawa was usually used to a well behaved Hanamaki Takahiro—quite the opposite, really; the fact of how easily he had given into the mission was enough to re-baffle Oikawa every time he thought about it—it was just that he was pretty sure that it was very apparent how riffled he was over the assignment of his 'special mission' and Hanamaki only seemed to be making his 'pissed off meter' run higher and higher with each loud passing remark he made.

And Oikawa Tooru was certain that Hanamaki Takahiro knew perfectly well what he was doing, they had been together for years on end after all, but why he was doing it was beyond him. Likely beyond Hanamaki as well, if the years that Oikawa knew him would be anything to show. Then again, the other always seemed to be full of surprises. Whether that was good or bad was up for interpretation, but Oikawa Tooru had dealt with enough of Hanamaki's surprises—specifically the little ones that killed Oikawa on the inside rather than the big ones that killed enemy fleets—that he more than often labeled each surprise in his head as 'BAD' and 'NEEDS SERIOUS HELP' in large red print. Some of them even had sparkles around the words to alert Oikawa just how horrible they were.

"Hanamaki," Oikawa finally gritted out between clenched teeth as the engineer made yet another comment about the other's inadequate captain-ing skills followed by the idea of asking to be transferred into a new crew as soon as they returned to the Northern Echelons, "If you don't shut up, I will throw you out of this ship quicker than you can say 'No, Captain Oikawa Tooru, let me kiss your feet so as to make up for my untrue and rude words.'" 

His voice was mocking, a sneer on his face as he clutched the side of the mission board tightly. Oh, he was just a step from doing just as he said, even as they dove into Spur 2b, headed right on course and ahead of schedule. As they had entered the far grasp of the Galactic Cannibal's pull, he had reasoned with himself that it would soon be over, but even now, when they were so, so close, Oikawa was only holding onto the 'reasoning with himself' thing by a thread. A thin thread.

"Oh please," Hanamaki scoffed, pacing back and forth behind the rest of the crew that remained seated and diligently working, the engineer having long since abandoned his own seat. Oikawa knew that the other four weren't actually working, and, if they were, they certainly weren't working all too hard. No, instead they were listening to the two of the banter with grim looks on their faces. Oikawa could sense it. "By the time you actually finished that sentence I could have gone through routine maintenance on this ship and ten others, at the very least."

"Then why didn't you?" Oikawa snapped back, his right eye twitched slightly as his grip only seemed to tighten against the board. Oh, great fourth Northern from the Center at 50,000 lightyears, beloved sixty-and-nineteen degrees, you who is currently at one-eighty degrees and 25,000 lightyears, please come into view soon and spare me this torture. "I mean, I certainly said it a few moments ago, and this ship is still quite un-maintenance-d, mind you. Shall I repeat it for your convenience? You know I would hate for us to have an un-maintenance-d ship, after all."

"Perhaps you should," the other continued to snark, throwing his arms up in something almost like exasperation at Oikawa's entire…Oikawa-ness. "While I'm at it, perhaps I should fly back to your beloved Seijou and fuck your mother, I'll have enough time left over, after all. Oh wait—"

Hanamaki was cut off by a long sigh from Matsukawa, whose hands were held up to his temples, slowly massaging them as if to get rid of the headache—or rather the migraine—that listening to the two of them bicker had brought about. And, while Oikawa could simply be seeing into the subject, maybe Matsukawa had purposely cut off the other man. For all of their sake's. 

The Captain had a suspicious feeling that he knew exactly where this conversation would have gone if it weren't for Matsukawa.

"You know," Matsukawa finally spoke up after a tense moment as the crew waited for the Second Engineer and Informant to finally speak, "As much fun as it is for you two to…tease each other-" well that certainly was putting it lightly, "-it's not fun for the rest of us. We're trying to actually work, thank you very much."

Hanamaki glared down at Matsukawa, Oikawa watching as the seated man didn't even bother to glance up at the other, "My work was done as soon as we took off, Issei." He finally hissed out between clenched teeth.

"Don't let the mission get to you, Takahiro," Matsukawa cut in almost as soon as his name left the other's lips, finally pulling his face away from his hands and fixing Hanamaki with a knowing look, "Go lie down, please."

A grumble from the First Engineer, but otherwise he complied to Matsukawa's request—he would refuse to call it an order, after all—and quickly disappeared off through an arch and towards where the beds were located. Oikawa just hoped he wasn't feeling vengeful enough to mess with his sleep settings. The Captain needed his beauty sleep, after all.

"Thanks," Oikawa finally spoke up, choking down any sort of feeling that may or may not have surfaced during the initial exchange. Of course they didn't. "I just- thanks."

"Oh please," Matsukawa snorted out at last, turning to face the panel in front of him that read the stats of the ship, "I only did it to get rid of the horrible headache the two of you were giving me."

"You get one every mission, Matsukawa," Yahaba pointed out, pulling away one of the two buds plugged into his ears as if to allow himself to listen to the words of the group. Oh please, he had had them pulled out throughout their entire exchange.

Matsukawa let out a huff of laughter at this, giving up on reading the ship's information and instead leaning back in his seat as Oikawa turned about in his chair rather than craning his neck back to look at the rest of them. "That's because those two piss me off every mission."

"Hey!" Oikawa cried out, pouting slightly as he childishly crossed his arms and curled into his seat. "I'm a delight and you know it."

"A delight to get rid of," Matsukawa muttered, ignoring the Captain's flustered response to instead turn his attention towards Watari, the only one who had continued to work—diligently, at that—after Hanamaki had left. "What's up?" He asked, leaning over to glance at the younger's panel, filled with calculations that Oikawa could barely remember and words that he had likely never heard.

"The target," the boy mumbled, brows furrowing as his eyes skimmed across his math once again, as if checking for mistakes before hesitantly dialing in a few more numbers and words, "Our current course has us headed for a mass."

That certainly caught everyone's attention, causing the calm yet joking atmosphere to immediately morph into a serious one. Matsukawa scooted closer to Watari, peering at his panel as if trying to detect something—anything—wrong. Similarly, Oikawa got up and quickly scurried over to their desks, allowing his eyes to buzz through Watari's work so as to catch himself up, and, even though he likely didn't understand the numbers and letters at all, Yahaba leaned across Watari's other arm and peered at the panel.

"Is it a star?" Oikawa asked, still not done with going through the calculations but asking anyways.

"No," Watari answered immediately, tapping across his desk and bringing up a different panel, this one displaying a general estimate of the looks of their pre-determined destination and a large mass sitting in the center of it. His fingers tapped on the mass, a set of information popping up next to it. Watari then slid one finger over to something labeled 'C.T.' and pointed at it. "The core temperature, C-T, is too low for it to be a star."

"A planet, perhaps?" Matsukawa speculated, running through the other stats of the mass as he did.

"There wasn't anything like that on the map," argued Yahaba, "I mean, there's a star nearby the location, but they still would have mentioned something like this."

"It's a map," Oikawa argued back, clicking on the small stats bar to instead bring up a larger range of data, "Of an area we don't even know at that. Watari, how reliable are this ship's C-T scanners?"

Watari fumbled slightly at the quick change of subject before turning his attention back to Oikawa's question. "U-um, they're pretty trust-worthy, but this far away from the target it's hard to say, especially given how old this ship is."

"It must be a pretty big planet to pick up on out sensors." Matsukawa muttered, throwing his eyes back to lock on the port that Hanamaki had just disappeared through, but kept whatever suggestions he my or may not have had to himself. 

"Either that or it has an exceptionally hot core," Yahaba supplied, eyeing Oikawa even as his fingers flew across the board in front of his own panel, jotting down he information as it was shown to him.

"Hot enough to be a star?" Matsukawa asked incredulously, the words punctuated with an eye roll as if to mock to translator, "Yahaba, we've already established that it's not a star, sorry for the disappointment."

Yahaba copied the older's eye roll, accompanying it with a sneer at him before Watari spoke up, "Well, we can't exactly rule out the possibility of it being a star," a flurry of fingers brought up yet another display of information that Oikawa quickly ran through, "Scientifically speaking, it's really not a star. Professionally, I don't believe that it's a star. Maybe just a planet that, as Yahaba said, no matter how mockingly, has an exceptionally hot core and therefore a large display. It's just a C-T scanner, after all. But, as you said, Captain, this is an area that we've never explored. That no one has, really. Perhaps this is normal for the galaxy."

Oikawa's expression soured at this as he ran his fingers across the panel and brought up the scanner of the stars spread throughout the galaxy before them. "No," Oikawa said as he brought up one set of star information, one that, granted, was quite a few light years from their destination. He then proceeded to swipe across the screen, new sets of data showing for each star that he was shown. 

"No," he repeated himself, "This is definitely below the average temperature of the stars in this galaxy. The size, too."

Oikawa could see Yahaba's brow furrow at the last comment. "The size is about that of a star, or rather a smll dwarf star." he said.

"Yes," Oikawa agreed, quickly bringing up the original stats as Watari leaned out from under his reach to give him more access to the panel, "But not the temperature."

Yahaba frowned at this but went quiet, as if searching for a reason that this could be. "It could be ship," Matsukawa spoke up, "We have reason to believe that the Brika Alliance of the Apo Quadrant may be experimenting with ships of the size of the part on the panel."

"They couldn't be," Watari said, turning to face the tired looking man as he did, "With a ship that size the internal temperature would have to be as hot as a star, if not hotter. Unless they discovered some new form of energy, or at least harnessed it in a way we haven't thought of before, that's not a ship."

"Not to mention the fact that the Brika Alliance is sworn from traveling into territory under the control of the Echelons," Yahaba enforced, settling back into his seat but keeping his eyes glued on Watari's panel.

Matsukawa shrugged, "Never stopped them before, it sure as hell won't stop them now. Especially not with a galaxy that the Echelons seems to care so little about. We may be one of the first actual groups of exploration of the galaxy. Otherwise, nearly everything is simply probing."

Oikawa glared at the panel one last time before sweeping his hand across it and bringing up the original set of information Watari had been looking at. "I've got my money on 'planet-with-a-hot-C-T,' but just in case, stay alert for anything baring the marks of Brika. I'm pretty sure that that would have been where we were heading if this assignment hadn't been given to us."

"We were declaring war on the Brika Alliance?" Yahaba asked in surprise, sitting up in his seat that he previously was relaxing in. Watari and Matsukawa seemed to perk up in interest as well at this new piece of information. "Why?"

"Reasons," Oikawa said, a tone of finality lacing his voice as he walked back to his post, examining the sensor in front of him before looking up and out the large stretch of window spread in front of him. "We're approaching the destination. Watari, get a new reading on the destination as I jump out of light-speed. If I'm right, we're in the heart of the given probing space."

Watari nodded—or at least Oikawa assumed he did—and quickly set up the scanner, eyes glued on the Captain to wait for his signal. "Go grab Hanamaki," Oikawa spoke, eyes still glued on the window but his voice directed towards Matsukawa. 

With that Oikawa held his hand up, all of his fingers held up until he put one down at the slight twist of the control knob, slowing down the ship. He did that with each finger until they were finally out of light-speed. Oikawa could hear Hanamaki muttering something to Matsukawa and the beeping of Watari's panel as he started the scanner, typing in a few last minute things as he did so.

He could hear all of these things, all of the ship humming around him, all of the small noises that he usually would have passed as white noise, and yet he couldn't help but ignore them as he stared out at the sight before him.

"Holy shit," Hanamaki whispered in awe as he and Matsukawa ceased their conversation to instead stare out the window along with Oikawa. And they did nothing but stare, for there was really nothing much else to do.

"Captain," Watari said, eyes still glued on the panel, "The source of the heat is behind us, and I'm pretty sure that it's not a sh–" The boy trailed off as he too glanced up and out of the window. The ship was silent as they all just looked, looked, and looked some more. 

A big planet of blue and a yellow-green lay before them, suspended against a backdrop of dark black, small stars glistening at them from far, far away. A desolate moon of grey, crater impacts larger than Oikawa's ship, was slowly circling the planet, webs of silver marching along the surface and ships—primitive, but still ships—rested along them. 

"Life," Oikawa laughed in a puff of air, a smile bursting across his face. The Galaxy of the Galactic Cannibal, Spur 2b, fourth Northern from the Center at 50,000 lightyears, sixty-and-nineteen degrees, currently at one-eighty degrees and 25,000 lightyears held life. Intelligent life.

Oikawa turned back to his crew, a silly grin on his face and on each of their's as well. And then, suddenly, they were falling. Right towards the big planet of blue and yellow-green that lay bellow them, with all of the alarms in the ship blaring loudly and obnoxiously. 

Life. Life intelligent enough to kill them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like space and cannot write.
> 
> As for the large mass with a high C.T. that is Jupiter, because, in case you didn't know, Jupiter is, in all technicalities, not even a planet but rather a brown dwarf star. The internal temperature is about 30,000 degrees Celsius while that needed to trigger nuclear fusion is about 10 million degrees Celsius. But! This is the future and idk maybe some 2010: Odyssey Two junk happened and now the internal temperature of Jupiter is supa dupa hot but not hot enough. idk.
> 
> Also, why did I make my nearest and dearest Hanamaki and ass? It is based off of the real life events of being sleepy and given an assignment that you'd rather not do all the while being around friends who you salt on on a regular basis.


	4. News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sawamura is introduced.

"Did you hear the news?" a voice asked, making Iwaizumi pull his head away from the pamphlet spread out in front of him as a tall cup of coffee—or at least whatever synthetic equivalent the Growers had most recently produced—was set down in front of him. Iwaizumi eyed the drink warily before setting aside the pencil he had been using to highlight parts of the reading and taking the drink into his hands.

Iwaizumi took a sip of the coffee, his face twisting up at the taste—there was something distinctly synthetic about it—before locking eyes with the other man as he slid down into the seat across from him, his own highly synthetic poor-excuse for caffeine clutched in his hands. "Which bit?"

"Which bit," Sawamura Daichi of Earth—an honorary title, in all reality—scoffed, rolling his eyes slightly at Iwaizumi's ignorance. Sawamura had been born and raised on the Lunar Colony of Tycho and had only moved to Earth via the request of some government official whose information could not legally be exposed lest one intended to have fire rain down on their ass. Metaphorically speaking, of course. "The absolutely enlightening story about the kitten that had been rescued by the fireman, of course." his tone was snarky as he all but sneered at Iwaizumi.

"Of course," Iwaizumi agreed, his eyes flitting up to the ceiling before falling back down to his pamphlet, his own scratchy memos and rough sketches lining the paper to a point where there was next to no blank spaces provided in between his pencil marks and the actual text. "Besides that, what's in the news?"

"International shot down a ship," Sawamura answered cooly, his face smug as he watched Iwaizumi stutter at the news, eyes growing wide and scalding hot coffee nearly dripping from the corners of his mouth. Luckily, Sawamura had the grace to allow Iwaizumi to swallow his mouthful before continuing. "The news said that it was unidentified, but people on the streets think that it was probably Martian. Maybe Lunar, but I would have been alerted if it was."

Iwaizumi wiped at his chin with the back of his hand as he turned his attention fully on Sawamura, "Why would International shoot down a Martian ship? Or-- an unidentified ship or whatever."

Sawamura shrugged at the other's questions, leaning back in his seat as he nursed his coffee in contemplation. "International is always going on about Solar System-ry Unity so shooting down a Martian ship would be social suicide. If a corporation can have such a thing," he frowned now as he considered the problem once again, "Then again, who are we to say that International is such a saintly business. I don't think that any corporation is exactly spotless--I doubt International is an exception to the rule."

"But why this Martian ship?" Iwaizumi mused, leaning forward in his seat as his interest was captured. "Is this some sort of spy movie or something? What with some sort of foreign diplomats or illegal drugs or mountains of jewels piled away on this ship."

Sawamura snorted at Iwaizumi's speculations, rolling his eyes as he set down his cup to join Iwaizumi's on the table in between the two of them. "This isn't a spy movie, no matter how much you wish it were." Sawamura sighed, "Or perhaps it is, because I can't really think of any other reason that a Martian ship would be shot down besides government conspiracy or whatever you want to call it these days."

It was Iwaizumi's turn to snort now as he picked up his pencil once again to twirl aimlessly between his fingers. "Have they given a description of the ship? If International shot it down that means that it must have been within orbit of Earth."

The fact that whatever was left of the ship likely would have broken orbit and fell down to Earth was left unsaid between the two. International must be in an uproar right now as they tried to collect whatever bits of evidence their…mistake, perhaps? had left scattered across the Earth's surface. Sawamura chuckled almost guiltily at this, "This is where the 'unidentified flying object' thing comes into play. Unless Mars has been trying out new designs for space travel, this ship is, in all terms and technicalities, completely and totally alien to us."

Iwaizumi scoffed, "You're telling me that International shot down some sort of alien space-craft that just so happened to be in Earth's orbit?"

"To an extent," Sawamura said, leaning forward in a manner similar to Iwaizumi as he propped himself up on the table by his forearms, "You know how Martian ships look something like a fat fish? Well, from what International has been saying--or at least what it's been releasing to the public--the ship that they shot down is relatively close to Martian design. I guess."

Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow at Sawamura's explanation before peeking down at his pamphlet and finding a small blank space. He shoved the paper over to Sawamura and forced the pencil into the other's fingers. "Sketch out what they're saying it looks like," he said, pointing out the empty space as Sawamura seemed to scan over his notes in mild interest. He'd have to worry about threatening the other to not dispose the information shown later.

It only took a moment before Iwaizumi had the paper underneath him once again, Sawamura's finger pointing out the rough drawing he had made. His lines were sketchy and Iwaizumi could barely make out the actual shape of the thing, but when he did he was slightly surprised, to put it lightly. It seemed to be made up of two--no, three parts. Something like a small sphere sat in the front, a thick cylinder—perhaps serving as a hall of sorts, Iwaizumi mused—seemed to incase some of the circle before it led back to where a pair of parallelograms sat, one for each side of the cylinder. 

Iwaizumi whistled lowly, "Well, this is certainly unlike anything that we've ever seen." he squinted down at the drawing once again, "Doesn't look very Martian, either. Doesn't look very anything, really. Star Trek-y, I suppose."

"Star Trek-y?" Sawamura repeated, laughing slightly as he did, "You're an engineer, Iwaizumi, I'd expect you to be at least a little more excited at this."

"Well sure I am," Iwaizumi agreed, running a hand through his close cut hair as he peered down at the sketch once again, "It's just a little strange to think about, isn't it? I mean, this could be proof of some sort of alien species out there. Think about it, man. It's practically ground breaking."

"Oh please," Sawamura huffed out, "We already have more than enough proof of alien life forms in the universe, you're just a stubborn asshole who doesn't watch the news and therefore doesn't know about the wild raves they hold three solar systems down."

"Wild raves?" Iwaizumi muttered, sending Sawamura a scandaled look before turning back to their subject matter with a quick shake of his head, "Well how about this. This could be proof that there are aliens out there that are just as advanced as we are, perhaps even more-so taking this ship into account. I mean, it sort of looks like a dick, and while I'd like to assume that alien anatomy isn't all too far off from ours, maybe it doesn't look that obscene to them, but it's still pretty advanced in terms of engineering."

Sawamura quieted at this, face creasing over as he thought of Iwaizumi's words, although he did snicker at Iwaizumi's description of the shape of the ship as a whole. "It could have been shaped differently," Sawamura said after a moment of silence, "International said this was only what the few witnesses thought that they saw." there was an emphasis on the word 'thought' that quickly brought the two of them to a stop.

"The 'few witnesses?'" Iwaizumi parroted, "This means the people that shot down the ship, right?"

"Well, yeah." the other man said with a shrug.

Iwaizumi frowned, "That could mean that they did, in fact, shoot down a Martian ship and simply blamed it on aliens. Considering how far the human race has come in reference to space exploration as well as the search for extraterrestrial lifeforms, the claim of an 'unidentified flying object' is enough to get them off the hook for just about any sort of inter-planetary treason."

"You know, Iwaizumi," Sawamura said, bringing his cup up to his lips to hide the smile forming on them. A smirk, really. "For someone who likes to claim that they don't care about anything going on off of the planet, you sure have a strong opinion on the subject."

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, fixing Sawamura with a deadpan expression. "Damn," he said, unimpressed by his friend's antics, "You got me there."

Sawamura smiled once again, this time more genuine as he stood from his seat, brushing off bits of imaginary dust that had gathered on his pants. Before grabbing his—now empty—cup of coffee, Sawamura straightened out his shirt with a small sigh. "I've gotta get going," he hummed, "If I'm away for any longer Tanaka will probably have blown up some unidentified ship of his own."

Iwaizumi snorted, obviously unimpressed. "Have fun, and don't blow up too many space ships."

With another laugh, Sawamura was out the door, leaving Iwaizumi alone in the café—or as alone as he could get whilst being surrounded by a group of people—with his half finished cup of coffee, already lukewarm from having been left to sit for too long, as well as the pamphlet.

He narrowed his eyes as he directed his attention back to the small drawing of the ship Sawamura had made. There was a large possibility that that wasn't even what it looked like, and, at the moment, there was an even larger possibility that the ship had been Martian rather than one that belonged to some sort of alien race.

Iwaizumi sighed, leaning back in his seat and allowing his eyes to flicker up to the ceiling. He didn't really know which he'd prefer. Martian meant that International could be, in all manners of speaking, declaring some sort of interplanetary warfare, but there hadn't been any big splash of what the ship had been carrying nor had there been any call of outrage expressed by Mars and its people, at least from what he'd heard from Sawamura.

But he wasn't too sure if he could so easily believe that the ship was the product of some sort of extraterrestrial life-form. Sure scientists and astronomers had found evidence of life on planets beyond their own, un-spurred by the help of the human race as was that of Mars, but most of these civilizations weren't nearly as advanced as them. Just the thought that some other civilization had already created ships that allowed them to travel to other solar systems in the galaxy, perhaps even other galaxies, for all Iwaizumi knew, it was frightening. 

Iwaizumi was frightened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao guess who forgot about this until right now. ft: daichi from the mOON and iwaizumi the nEEERRD. Also: Oikawa's ship looks nothing like that, i just wanted to describe a ship as a dick so i could laugh. tbh i totally see it looking like a fat fish or smth


	5. Prisoner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Hegemon is kidnapped.

Sugawara Koushi—the closest of all rough translations of his name into Galactic Common—was known by the people of the Greater and Lesser Echelons as the Benevolent Ruler of the Prefecture of the Southern Echelons, or, the much shorter and much preferred version, the Hegemon of the Prefecture of the Southern Echelons, which really didn't shorten the mouthful that was his title, but it really was a mental thing. Plus, his title of just how benevolent of a ruler he was didn't seem to matter considering his current situation.

It was a well known fact throughout the Sworn Echelons that the Hegemon was vacationing in Erato, it was his home galaxy after all. A piece of information that was not as well known, however, was the fact of which planet he was vacationing on. Most had presumed he would be visiting his home planet of Ka'ara as proven evident by the sudden influx in the touristry industry the planet was going through, but to be completely honest, Sugawara Koushi was quite sick of Ka'ara, even if it had been his entire life until he went off to higher schooling in politics at fourteen. Granted, that was only fourteen years, but it was still, well, fourteen years.

Instead, the man had gone off to G'vest'a, one of the quainter asteroids in the infamous Erato-ian Asteroid Belt, the site of many inter-planetary as well as a few inter-galactic battles. In fact, G'vest'a was just a broken piece of a larger asteroid destroyed in battle some hundred years ago. Recalling his planetary schooling, Sugawara was still able to recite the name of the original asteroid—An'naz'e—, the nine asteroids it had split into from largest to smallest—Or'ia, Cy'mpl'ô, Na'arm'a, En'nvi, Wn'me'e, G'vest'a, Ia'ra'a, At'óm'ee's, and Be'eya—, the name of the battle that had destroyed the asteroid—the Battle of Mi'aa and An'naz'e—, as well as what sort of ship destroyed it—a model QN, specifically a QN5400. He could not, however, remember the exact date of the battle, something that, if he had remembered correctly, wouldn't have caused him to lose two marks off of his quiz over the battle some many years ago.

He remembered that he then spent two nights attempting to memorize the date, but would always forget it a soon as he arrived in his Erato-ian History class, G'vest'a was a nice place, not as popular with tourists as Or'ia or Cy'mpl'ô, but much more popular than the practically empty Be'eya asteroid, only four families living on the rock in total. As a child, Sugawara had often gone off to G'vest'a with his mother and father—often just his mother—and the asteroid, while certainly not a second home, was something like a comfortable community he could easily blend into. 

Granted, that had been quite easier when he was not the Hegemon. 

Now he was barely allowed around the small Inn he had stayed in since he was a child without one guard walking two steps in front of him and another walking two steps behind. It was a bother, but a necessary precaution nonetheless. One that, ultimately, led him to his situation. Or perhaps it was the lack of said necessary precaution that caused the situation. Well, allowed the situation to be played out. Successfully.

The situation—the one which had been carried out successfully due to the lack of the necessary precaution that were the Hegemon Sugawara Koushi's guards——if he remembered correctly the two of them were holed up in their own room in the Inn——he hoped that they were enjoying themselves—that was currently at hand involved one Grand and Benevolent Sugawara Koushi, Hegemon of the Prefecture of the Southern Echelons, with his hands bound by Lijo ropes, a gag in his mouth, a blindfold over his eyes, and his royal garb positively soaking with blood. His own, if the sharp pain emanating from the entirety of the right side of his body was anything to go by.

Oh, he truly hoped those guards were enjoying themselves. 

The sharp easily distinguishable scratch of metal on metal as a rusty door slid itself open caught Sugawara's attention, causing his head to whip towards the source of the noise. Well, now he knew wherever he was had doors. Silence. Whoever had opened the door had either done it on accident or was simply standing outside of it watching him as he sat in a pool of his own blood. He shifted slightly at the thought of being watched by someone who should be right within his range of vision, and yet he was not able to see. 

On Sugawara Koushi's list of Things That He Greatly Disliked, this situation was definitely up there. Perhaps not number one, but a strong contestant for number two if ever there was such a list.

Another hiss met his years, this one more alive than that that the door had seemed to squeak out. "Shit," whoever had entered the room cursed before they rushed across the floor to where Sugawara was tied up, their light boots making the tiniest clang that reverberated about the room for what seemed like forever.

"Shit," the person repeated as they—presumably—slid down to their knees next to Sugawara's form, their hands flying to undo the tight binds that held his hands together. The Hegemon could feel their hand's shaking as they tugged at the ropes as if hoping they would simply fall off if they pulled hard enough at them. Sugawara almost wanted to laugh. These were Lijoian ropes, after all. Other than some of the more precious metals located in the more remote regions of the Eso-Parec galaxy—a region under the control of the Brikka Alliance, nonetheless—the things were practically indestructible.

Sugawara let out a pained groan, hopefully calling the person's attention away from his hands and instead towards his face. Slobber ran down and out the sides of his mouth as he did this and he cringed slightly. This was certainly…unsettling to say the least.

"Oh," the voice spoke and suddenly the blindfold was pulled away from his eyes, so quickly that the lights in the ceiling were enough to blind him. Following soon after, the gag was pulled away, sending the young Hegemon off into a coughing fit, flicks of blood and saliva spewing from his mouth as he doubled over at the pressure.

A hand rested on his back, pounding lightly at it as Sugawara dry heaved. He was suddenly reminded of the fact that he hadn't eaten anything throughout the day as the only thing that came out of his mouth was said saliva and blood as well as puddles of stomach acid.

"Where am I?" Sugawara asked through his ragged breath as he finished with his ministration, turning his head slowly to swipe his mouth on the shoulder of his shirt. Whoever had come to his assistance was still holding tightly to him. They quickly righted him, dragging him up slightly to rest his back against his knee.

"Starship STZW11-56 of the Brikka Alliance," the voice answered comfortingly, their attention now refocused on Sugawara's hands. Brikka Alliance, how nice. He was a prisoner of war, quaint really. "In Galactic Common my name is Semi Eita. Do you mind telling me why you're on our ship? Or perhaps how you got on it? And just who are you, anyways?"

Sugawara flinched back slightly as the person's voice suddenly hardened in the middle of their sentence. Sugawara squinted up at Semi, able to see their face but not being able to particularly distinguish their features. "I have no idea how I got on your ship nor why I'm here," Sugawara answered truthfully. Nor do I know why I'm tied up, he thought along with his words. 

"And your name?" Semi persisted, tugging helplessly at Sugawara's bonds once again, a foreign curse falling from their lips when the bonds yet again refused to give way.

"Sugawara Koushi," he managed to choke out, wincing as the bonds only seemed to tighten more. "Hegemon of the Prefecture of the Southern Echelons."

Semi suddenly faltered. "Hegemon?" they stuttered out. "The Echelons? Oh gods, oh gods." They let Sugawara's hands drop from where they previously held them. Sugawara could feel Semi standing up from behind him and suddenly he was being dragged yet again, this time to be propped up against the wall. Semi pulled away from him, kneeling down to be eye-level with Sugawara. "Hold still, okay? I'm going to call someone to help with the ropes. And the fact that you're here. On the ship of a warring Quadrant. Oh gods, we are royally fucked."

With that Semi quickly turned away and shuffled towards the door, turing back once they reached it as if to check on Sugawara before rushing through it, a shout echoing down the hallway that they had disappeared down.

Sugawara groaned, shifting his body to sit more comfortably against the wall. Or at least as comfortably as one could sit against a wall with a gapping wound in one's side, a pounding echo in one's head, and a horrible feeling in one's gut. Not to mention with one's hands still tied behind one's back. "Shit," he muttered, throwing his head back as gently as he could. "Shit." How the hell did he get on this ship? He honestly didn't know. And what had Semi said the ship was again? A STZW, if Sugawara could recall correctly, not quite able to remember the model number. He froze as he suddenly recalled more of Semi's words. This ship was under the Brikka Alliance which, as Semi had said before he left, was the Alliance that the Echelons were currently at war with. And here he was. A Hegemon of the Echelons. Tied up on a ship belonging to the Brikka. Gods, if they didn't kill him right then and there…his thoughts trailed off as he tried to keep himself from simply banging his head against the wall behind him. A prisoner of war. 

"Sugawara?" Semi's voice called out from the hallway before they hesitantly entered the room, a large intimidating looking man trailing behind him, a serious look on his face. Once Semi caught sight of Sugawara—perhaps the blood as well, Sugawara thought sarcastically, the pool that he was currently swimming in wasn't too noticeable after all—they quickly rushed to his side, gently pulling him away from the wall to rest on their knee yet again.

"You are the Hegemon Sugawara Koushi?" the stranger asked, crossing the room with long strides before kneeling down next to Semi. He locked eyes with Sugawara as the smaller nodded in affirmation. He grunted before his hand fell down to the belt he had around his waist. Suddenly a knife was produced, and Sugawara flinched away from it. Brikka Alliance, Brikka Alliance, he chanted in his head, even as the man shot him a look of confusion before passing the knife to Semi who shot the man a look of disbelief. 

"Don't worry," Semi assured Sugawara as they brought the knife down to cut away the rope. When they didn't continue their assurance, Sugawara flinched yet again. Don't worry what? Don't worry, we won't kill you? Don't worry, we won't return you to your home galaxy? Don't worry, when we kill you it won't hurt too much?

"Eita said that you don't know how you got on our ship, is that correct?" the man asked, his gaze was menacing but his touch was comforting as he brought his hands down to gently prod at his wound.

"That's correct," he hissed out, more from pain than from spite. "Who are you, though? Do you have any idea as to why I'm here?"

The man tilted his head slightly and turned to Semi who simply rolled their eyes before hurriedly translating bits and pieces of Sugawara's questions into Galactic Natural. Sugawara was only able to catch bits of Semi's words before the man nodded and answered back in the same language.

"I'm not here to be a damn translator," Semi muttered under their breath as they once again began to saw at Sugawara's ties, "His name is Ushijima Wakatoshi in Common…at least, I think it's something like that. Whatever. He doesn't have a clue as to how you got on our ship. That's what we were sort of hoping that you knew."

Sugawara sighed, "I wish," he said, shaking his head slightly as he did, "I can barely even remember my morning at this point, much less whatever got me here."

There was suddenly the sound of the knife clattering to the ground followed by another curse spoken in Natural. "Sorry about that," Semi murmured before grabbing onto the rope wrapped around Sugawara's wrists and slowly unwinding it, doing it as gently as possible after Sugawara's pained hiss when the rope rubbed his raw skin the wrong way.

"Thank you," Sugawara said softly before quickly repeating the sentiment in shaky Natural. 

Semi smiled down at him before rising to their feet, slowly lowering Sugawara's head as they did, and hurrying to Ushijima's side to inspect the wound he was still poking around at. They immediately delved into a rushed conversation in a language that Sugawara couldn't place, likely something from one of the planets belonging to the Brikka Alliance. Perhaps the two of them had grown up together. The thought made Sugawara's heart melt slightly. How sweet, even if these people were technically his enemy.

"Sugawara," Semi addressed him softly once again, "We're going to take you down to the Sick-Bay to help patch up your side as well as whatever injuries you may have sustained through your transportation onto the ship," Semi bit their lip now as they glanced over at Ushijima, another short conversation in Natural following, "However, we won't be able to get you off of the ship."

"What?" Sugawara questioned weakly as Ushijima gathered him into his arms and stood, Semi off to the side with a concerned look on their face.

"Our ship is on a set course," Ushijima responded to the Hegemon, "We can't turn it around just for you, no offense intended. We're also not able to pull out any pods to send you out, they're all emergency. Our transporters are down as well."

"So basically," Sugawara deadpanned at the man holding him in his arms, "I'm stuck on your ship heading towards some unnamed destination for some unsaid amount of time." he let out a huff of air before throwing his head back in exasperation. "I hate to be rude, but I'm the Hegemon of seven galaxies, I have to look out for over three hundred and fifty individual planets. Please understand this."

Semi smoothly translated to Ushijima as Sugawara spoke before shaking their head, "Even with that information there is literally nothing that we can do at the moment. We want to help you, we really do, but all we can to do help right now is to heal you up before contacting the Echelons to tell them of your situation. Please just be able to cooperate until we can safely get you back."

Ushijima turned to Semi and spoke quietly to them once again to which they winced at the information. "Or maybe we won't be able to get you in touch with the Echelons," their tone was bitter as they sneered out the words, "Are you sure that Satori can't get communications up and running?"

Ushijima now spoke, addressing both Semi and Sugawara, "He's been trying for the past seven hours. He say that, if he's lucky, it'll be ready in at least five days. All of the other communications officers left once we set course."

"All of them?" Semi asked incredulously, "We had nearly one hundred c-o's and somehow we get down to one?" they sneered yet again, "Are they not aware of just how large this ship is?"

"How large is it?" Sugawara asked hesitantly, easily inserting himself into the conversation.

"Large enough to fit your entire fleet and then some," Semi muttered bitterly before sighing yet again. "I'm sorry Sugawara. You're going to be here for a while."

Ushijima nodded solemnly, "The most that we can do is to make you comfortable while you're here."

Sugawara sighed. 55673.82 Echelonian Time, that was the date of the battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love aliens and therefore Sugawara had to be one but also Hegemon bc I said so. Pls note that I suck at writing and need to put more effort into everything that I do.

**Author's Note:**

> Boy oh boy do I love space. To be completely honest I have been watching too much Star Trek and so this was born bUT I like it so whatever. 
> 
> Quick words: The Galactic Cannibal is the Milky Way and this is hella in the future AKA long after it has 'eaten' the Sagittarius Dwarf Galaxy so a few hundred million years away. 
> 
> The whole 'Spur 2b…blah blah blah' thing is supposed to be the Orion Arm of the Milky Way which sort of looks like the fourth arm of our Galaxy if you look at it like the Norma Arm is splitting out at about 90 degrees, which makes the sun at about 180 degrees, regardless. 
> 
> Let's see, so the sun is about 26,000 lightyears from the center of the galaxy and tbh I pbly should have changed it bc fUTURE and all that but whatever. Space.
> 
> Lemme know if I done goofed up on something.


End file.
